superesse diem
by bookworm42x
Summary: Ignorance, they say, is bliss. Rose Weasley, to her own chagrin, was not blissful.


_The world collapsed around her...powerless to stop it, she drowned in the rubble, swallowed by the oblivion...and everything they ever worked for was sucked into agonizing nothingness..._

Rose Weasley woke with a start. She gasped for breath, tugging at her curly hair as if it were the rope that she could climb to safety. Sweat poured down her forehead, and she wept as if someone very close to her had died...

Nobody called out to her, of course. It was Sunday. The girls in her dormitory would be relaxing, enjoying themselves, giggling over pointless things.

_Pointless. Useless. _The nightmare came flooding back.

Rose wiped the tears away, and sat up. She would have to make an appearance, or people would think she was ill, and then they would inquire after her health, and Rose didn't like socializing much, although she was friends with her roommates. However, since the nightmares had begun, Quinn, Elinor, Dana and Beatrice seemed lightyears away...

Rose dressed quickly and wove her curls into a practical braid. She attempted several times to vanquish the red splotches on her cheeks that were the consequences of crying, but to no avail...and then, breakfast, though she knew she would not eat anything. It wasn't as though she were silly and insecure, like Quinn Richter, who believed that the seventh year she fancied would like her better if she ate less...no, not at all like that...Rose simply wasn't hungry.

She downed a cup of tea, scanned the hall, and sat up, watching a boy with silvery blond hair sit down across the room. Her face remained expressionless, because this action on the boy's part (sitting down and eating breakfast, that was) meant nothing to her. She was always aware of Scorpius Malfoy's exact location in a room, although he, like her roommates, was far, far away...no, Scorpius was out of her reach, beautiful and untouchable...

_That's just it, then, Scorpius? You choose them over me, those slimy little—_

_They never did anything to you!_

Rose shook her head, trying to clear the conversation...

_They're arseholes! You can do _better _than them! That Calloway bloke—_

Bertrand Calloway sat down next to Scorpius, grinning and going on about something or other...

_Calloway's fine! What d'you _mean_, better than them—do you mean _you?

_No—no, Scorpius— _

She was better than them...she _was_...

Calloway looked up...someone was coming in from the entrance hall...

_Rose, I don't have to tolerate this. _

_Oh, that's right, I hear Verity Cotton's really tolerable!_

Verity, undeniably flawless and _always, always _smiling (_oblivious_, thought Rose, remembering her nightmare, _oblivious to death_), entered the Great Hall. She did not sit with Scorpius and Calloway, but Rose thought she saw her wink in their general direction.

_I'm _leaving, _Rose._

_Then leave! See if I care!_

Yes, Rose cared, but Scorpius had never seen...of course he hadn't, he was _oblivious..._

Rose gulped, set her teacup down, and went to the courtyard. It was empty, and she sat down on a bench, taking in deep breaths of the chilly November air and trying to concentrate on something different...

It had been weighing her down lately, 'it' being a plethora of ideas, ideas that depressed Rose and whisked her away from her prior blissful ignorance...the fact that they must all die, magic though they were, the imminent end of mankind and wizardkind, when all that they worked for would be _gone_...what was the _point _of it all, anyway? Her petty schoolmates' drama was unimportant to her...Scorpius and Verity had disappeared, as had her roommates, and that seventh year Quinn fancied...because _they _had not realized...they, surely, would not understand Rose's terrifying thoughts...Rose wondered if there was anyone who truly _understood _such thoughts, for she certainly did not.

"Rosie?"

A boy entered the courtyard, his hair a reddish halo in front of the sun..._Hugo. _Rose smiled wryly...she had been rude to Hugo lately, and to the rest of her family...she had not answered her parents' letters...Dominique was having a dilemma, and Victoire had gotten married...stupid details, _really_, and ones that would not matter in ages to come...

"Rosie? Are you—are you quite all right?"

The nightmare crashed down on Rose, haunting her.

"Yes," she said vaguely. "I'm fine."

"If you're sure," her younger brother said uncertainly. Rose nodded, and every centimeter that her curly head moved was a lie...

She would survive, day by day, if not eternally.

_Yes, _Rose thought—it was a nice thought, wasn't it? _She would survive._

**A/N: This is sort of depressing. And bad. Sorry. You don't have to review. But I'd like it a lot if you would.**


End file.
